


Smoke

by twodwarves_oneeagle



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 09:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twodwarves_oneeagle/pseuds/twodwarves_oneeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili and Bilbo share a moment over supper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Could you do a Fili/Bilbo? Come on, it’s Filbo! Please no smut, just romance. 
> 
> I've just realized how rare this pairing really is. Huh.

Fili sits with his back to the stone mouth of the cave they’ve found for camp that evening. Bedrolls are being tossed haphazardly around him and there are rabbits turning over the fire. His mouth wraps around the lip of his boar shaped pipe and he puffs absently, his hands otherwise preoccupied with whetstone and blade. It’s all muscle memory for him and his attention drags from one companion to the next. 

First and always his eyes fall to his brother, ever watching out for him though Kili had long since grown passed the age of needing such a vigilant eye. Once he was satisfied with his brother’s place in camp, his eyes flick to Ori around the campfire; his face is pushed up nose-close to the book he’s reading. Fili can’t help but chuckle under his breath; despite Ori being his elder, it was hard to view him as such sometimes. 

His eyes flick to each group of dwarves respectively, before finding himself watching Gandalf and his uncle talking just out of earshot. Though, one did not need to have particularly keen hearing to know they were arguing again. Fili was almost sure from this distance he could hear Gandalf mutter something particularly expletive about the stubbornness of dwarves for what was likely to not be the last time on the trip. 

So caught up trying to catch snippets of what Thorin and Gandalf were arguing about this time, Fili misses the quiet foot falls of the Hobbit coming to join him. He rakes the whetstone across his blade harshly in surprise when Bilbo makes himself known.

“Ah, sorry...I didn’t mean...well,” The blond curls are bobbing with the nodding of his head and he offers Fili the additional meal he had brought over to make up for his trailing words. “May I?” This time he’s nodding to the spot on the ground beside Fili. 

Fili grants permission with a simple tilt of his head, watching as the hobbit dips clumsily down beside him, the broth sloshing side to side in the deep bowl. Setting his boar pipe aside he accepts his own bowl, setting it in more the same direction of his pipe.

They sit almost hip to hip in silence for a while, Fili falling back into his easy rhythm, exchanging one blade under the whetstone for another. 

“You’ve got a lot of those,” Bilbo observes between mouthfuls of soup. 

“Aye,” Fili agrees, stopping his ministrations to look the hobbit over, “And you have none.” He’s more than inclined to agree with his uncle: Bilbo does not look to be cut from the cloth of adventures. Bilbo is small, plush and carries a pocket of weight over his belly that comes from eating well and often. 

Fili can admit Bilbo is light on his feet, quick and silent, but those are skills they’re expecting to aid them against Smaug, there’s no telling what they would come across on the journey there and if Bilbo would be in any state to handle it. 

Looking over his blades, Fili expertly picks up the shortest and lightest, “Here, you should have something to protect you.” 

Bilbo looks over the blade with wide eyes and something that almost looks like nausea blinking across his eyes. “What? No, no, I couldn’t.” 

His soup suddenly becomes incredibly interesting until he can hear the clatter of metal when the blade meets its sisters on the ground. “I’ve never used a sword before,” Bilbo confides sheepishly, “I wouldn’t know how.” 

Fili can feel himself smiling and a deep chuckle rumbles up from his chest. Bilbo’s expression pinches with embarrassment and indignation, “Sorry,” Fili offers, “I meant no offense.” 

He sets aside his blades, picking up the bowl of soup Bilbo had brought him -- trying for a gesture of peace. Besides, he hadn’t been laughing at him -- not entirely. There was just something about the open honesty mingling with the uncomfortable expression Bilbo wore day in and day out after leaving Bag End it was...endearing. 

The accusatory face melts as they eat in silence, a hearty meal always welcome after a day on horseback. It’s Fili who finally breaks the comfortable silence between them, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Bilbo appraises him as if he’s looking for the butt of some unknown joke, “No,” He nods his head quite firmly, “Thank you,” he remembers to add a second too late for courtesy. “I’d be more than happy if I never ended up using a sword.” 

“Fair enough, Master Hobbit.” Fili sets aside the empty bowl when he finishes dinner, reaching once more for his boar pipe. By now the embers have burnt themselves down to nothing. It takes some fiddling inside his tinderbox, but before long, Fili has the pipe packed and burning. 

As the minutes pass, the air grows thicker with neither one talking, their mouths full of things they won’t say. Instead of speaking, Fili just offers his pipe to Bilbo; he knows the Hobbit has his own, it’s plain and smooth but certainly well made -- not unlike the Hobbit himself, Fili is beginning to suspect.

After a moment or two, Bilbo reaches out and accepts the pipe, suckling the lip of it and inhaling deeply. Together they pass the pipe back and forth and watch the camp in quiet. Smoke dances between them, coiling around both their heads, roping them together. The smoke says more than either of them dare. 


End file.
